When I think my load is heavy,
And I can't carry anymore,
I think about the heavier cross,
That His poor shoulders bore.
Sometimes I fairly stumble,
Beneath my troubled load,
But then He stumbled more than I,
As He walked down Calvary's road.
My face is wet with falling tears,
My forehead tight in thought,
But He had blood upon His brow,
From the crown of thorns they wrought.
My friends have but abandoned me,
They are no longer near,
But He had been forsaken more,
And they taunted him and jeered.
I pray to have such strength as His,
To be led by Jesus' hand,
He suffered far more pain than I,
Yet, He obeyed His Father's plan.